There's no such thing as a romantic meeting at night
by Akely
Summary: To see her bask in the sunlight was only a futile dream, in the never-ending night of Yoshiwara. AU - Yoshiwara. Okita is male prostitute (Kagema) and Harusame!Kagura his patron. Okita is 18, Kagura 22.


**There's no such thing as a romantic meeting at night**

* * *

He never saw her in the sunlight. By the time she arrived at the room it was night, but not dark, because it was never dark here— the night meant the start of the day for courtesans.

She was his first and only patron, god knows where she hid that money, and it was a surprise when the Boss told him she had been doubling the sum just so nobody would touch him beside her. He made it sound like there was something special between them, and it was the case but differently. She had never touched him, never looked at him more than a sort-of companion to talk to when bored at night and sometimes, she'd ask him what kind of dreams he had, what was his story.

But she never told hers. Truthfully Okita didn't know much about her besides the fact she was a Yato, and that like most Yatos she worked in a dangerous field.

"I'm coming in," her voice echoed in his ears as the door was slid. It was dark, it was faint, but she smelled of iron, she smelled like blood. It happened often so Okita stopped minding and just reached for the first-kit aid he kept in the room just in case, like today.

"You shouldn't stink when you meet a man," he advised but he wondered if she ever went to anyone than him— it didn't look possible when she spent much of her nights with him.

"I bought you a gift."

It was then that he noticed the sword caught between her slender fingers, something that didn't suit her at all. She usually used an umbrella that could protect her body from the sun and the enemies alike, but this time she held katana with a shining scabbard.

"That's yours, yes?" She threw the sword at him, and he, fortunately, caught it and examined further. It was obvious it was of good quality with the sound it made, the shine of the blade its thin edges, and Sougo knew enough to understand it didn't come from anyone. "I asked for a bit of red because when you'll use it, you'll always be reminded of who you are indebted."

"...Why would you give me a sword?"

"You're a samurai, yes? A samurai needs a sword." She eased closer to him and sat down; not without a loud thud, and stared at him. Her blue eyes always looked like they were glowing, and for the time Okita felt like his breath was taken away when her fingers— always around her umbrella— gently rubbed his face. "Unless you want to be the first samurai with makeup, you should remove it. It stinks."

Gintoki always made sure to apply white powder on his face, like most geishas and other courtesans. Recently they had added some sort of sweet scent to the powder that she hated right off the bat. He didn't like the way makeup would make his face so feminine too, his own reflection looked like his sister's.

"You're the only crazy bitch who'd think something like me can be a samurai. I couldn't protect my sister from getting killed, and to top it off I got sold off as a male prostitute, of all things."

He didn't know if he should be laughing or crying—

"You're strong, yes? You trained, yes?" It felt like something Mitsuba or Kondo would have said, something that reached deep inside him. "Why did you train so hard if you gave up?"

She pocked him on the forehead.

That was the first he realized she wasn't just any patron. It was odd, their relationship, they didn't know each other yet she always talked like she could read his mind, look at his past and his feelings.

Could she see how much he longed for her touch again?

* * *

The second time is the hair, it was just another night where she'd be eating and drinking as he kept her company, talked about the Boss having a new favourite in the form of a police officer he hated.

Just then, she suddenly reached to his hair and he could feel her warm fingers going through his hair, messing it up.

"How come it is so silky when you're a boy?" She wondered with fondness that pooled heat in his stomach, "Are you blushing?"

"I'm not."

For the first time he wished he had set white powder onto his face, she wouldn't have noticed how warm and red he became just because of this one contact. He didn't picture himself as the romantic type, especially since his job was selling his body yet, it was really stupid.

But she had been the one to believe in him, gave him a sword, never laughed at his dream.

He thought everything went wrong from the day men intruded his home and killed everyone but him, because Mitsuba hid him, and even so he couldn't live up to his dead parents and his dead sister's expectations.

"Why did you trust me?"

"You look like someone I know, he's all thing and pretty face but he's strong. Stronger than anyone," she said while looking at the lamp; regrets in her tone. "He's stronger than anyone else I know but he lost reasons. That's why, every time you use this sword you need to remember why I gave that you, don't become a monster. It's easy, once you have killed a man," she swallowed, "two or thousands, you don't notice the difference anymore."

Was she scared?

* * *

He was drunk that night. It all happened because she decided to sleep at his room— it happened often— and when he was rolling her in the futon she had to whisper another man's name, Kamui, or whoever he was. He knew he didn't have any rights to be jealous, hell he didn't even know what her name was and since day one he called her 'china'.

But still.

He felt betrayed, was she talking to him or to this man when she admitted fearing; she did say they looked alike. He didn't trust anyone so easily, nor get attached so quickly— but he was just a replacement after all.

Fuck. He was too weak, to have believed everything like some credulous young girl.

"Hey, are you fine?" She asked, seemingly worried and his brain needed two minutes to decided between anger and sadness— and it went for both, at the same time.

"Who's that Kamui?" He managed to ask. "If you're using me just as a substitute, I'll let you know that even I am not low enough for that."

"What are you talking about?" She leaned in and sniffed, quickly grunting afterward, "You reek of alcohol."

"It's not like you care."

Damn, he sounded like a whining boy.

He hated everything at the moment, and his brain was so confused and numb.

"Kamui's my brother," she sighed and caught his wrists. "And yes, I do care about you stupid."

"You never told me your name."

"It's Kagura."

"You never touched me."

"Do you want me to?"

He didn't know why he nodded so fast.

* * *

She leaned in, her lips lingering gently over his cheeks and her arms wrapped around his neck. It was the first time he could hold her properly, to have her so close.

Her hands moved upward and messed his hair again, and he could feel wet kisses all over his face. Careful, as if she was scared to hurt him, but perhaps he was a puny human and her a woman from the strongest species in the whole universe.

"I'm not made of glasses."

"Are you asking for me to be rougher?" She had a playful tone, her hands quickly moving to his *kimono* and revealing his torso. He didn't work out for nothing, after all, "If my memory is good you're a cherry boy, nothing to be brave of."

He grabbed her wrists— stopping her hands from feeling his abs— and pulled them behind as she slowly fell on top of him. "Then show me."

It was his first time kissing anyone, and he was overwhelmed by the way she rubbed against his tongue, it was probably her first too but like everything else, Kagura always managed to win. Not that he was complaining. His fingers were wandering on her skin, smooth he has learned, and into her hair, silky and free of any blood.

It was probably the moment they should be telling each other I love you but they didn't because damn, her eyes were talking and he was his too.

Patron and courtesan, a special relationship, more often than not their love stories wouldn't end well. Patrons that betray their courtesans or courtesans that betray their patrons, there were that many stories circulations in Yoshiwara; and despite it, all Sougo didn't care. If he started to worry about the future now he would never be able to enjoy anything, like the way Kagura was kissing his neck.

She bit him, not hard enough to draw blood but he could certainly feel the pain running through him. She first attacked around the pulse, then moved lower until she could nibble her shoulders, her hands caressing over his torso.

Damn, he was feeling way too hot.

"Stop teasing me," he breathed. "I'm the Sadist right?"

"Your S stands for sub," she cackled and slipped her hands straight into his underwear. He was scared she might just castrate him forever with her strength, but the way she held his cock was tight, but not enough to hurt him that way.

Maybe he really was a sub.

It was hard to smother all his moans when she started moving up and down, in a rhythm that definitely made him cry out in pleasure, and damn her for enjoying this sight of him. Her mouth was close to his ears, starting to nibble it.

"Where did you learn that," he managed to muster between his moans, "I'll be disappointed if I'm not your first boy."

"When you live around men you end up finding their stash, yes? Besides this is like a joystick."

"Don't compare my thing to a joystick!" Okita gritted his teeth, her hand was so smooth and soft that he might just come right here, and right now. He couldn't yet, that'd be ridiculous and he feared to disappoint her— even just a little bit. Because first times were meant to be special, weren't they? And she was manhandling her while he was laid on his back like a fish. "S-Stop it, let me touch you too."

"It's fine, it's funny to see you like that." She retired her hand, and Okita was disappointed as the warmth left him. "You shouldn't touch me, you'll become an officer one day. That day, you and I, it will be on a battlefield."

"We're already fucking you know." Okita's hands found their ways onto her hips, "Though I won't mind getting you behind bars."

"If anything I'll be the one catching you and putting you in a jail," she smirked and rose up, guiding his tip to her and though she bit her lips in pain, she managed to slip his cock in.

She was too sexy for his own good— the way she would stare at him all the way, shamelessly.

Her eyes were teary. For all her fiery attitude it must have hurt, and Okita grabbed her hand before kissing it.

"If I become an officer I'll find a way to save you."

"Idiot," she whispered, starting to move slowly up and down, apparently already accommodated to him. She was tight and warm. And moving fast, maybe something that had to do with her Yato origin but he was quick to find himself panting and needing more— harder, faster. "It's, it's not that easy."

"I'll find a way to work it out. We will."

"Big words."

Their breath mingled together in the dark, she was carving into his skin; he wouldn't forget this sensation as he grabbed the sheet because of the sheer pleasure. She'd lean in to kiss him again and he'd gladly answer because damn life was too short to worry and he'd rather have her all to himself.

"I love you," he managed to pronounce as he was nearly at his limit with the way she'd accelerate the rhythm and playfully bit at his lips. "Kagura."

"Ah, Sougo," she ended and his mind went blank as she fell down. "I love you too."

* * *

Yoshiwara AU — Kagema are male prostitutes ;)

18 y.o Okita x 22 y.o Kagura!Harusame

Sorry for the bad smut, it's been a long time.


End file.
